There Is An Arid Pleasure


There is an arid Pleasure—
As different from Joy—
As Frost is different from Dew—
Like element—are they—

Yet one—rejoices Flowers—
And one—the Flowers abhor—
The finest Honey—curdled—
Is worthless—to the Bee—

by Emily Dickinson

Comments (4)

Unless i err! ! Nice piece of work.
good one, see your sins..
Awesome twins and equally awesome is their philosophy narrated in this great poem. Thanks for sharing it here.
Nice piece...thanks for sharing